“If ever I see such a sight in my life as you be, Joel Pepper,” exclaimed Miranda, with extreme disfavor. “My, and phew! What have you been doin’?” She wrinkled up as much nose as she possessed, and pulled her calico gown well away, to be sure it couldn’t possibly hit any part of his muddy clothes.
“Cleaning out the pig-pen,” said Joel, pointing a very grimy finger at it.
“Cleanin’ out th’ pig-pen!” exclaimed Miranda Peters. “O my, and O my! What will Mrs. Pepper say?”
“Oh, don’t tell Mamsie,” pleaded Joel, crowding up closely to her.
“Oh, you get away!” cried Miranda, edging off, and whipping her gown tighter than ever around her feet; “don’t you dars’t to come no nearer, Joel Pepper. Well, first I must clean you up,” and she took up the broom she had dropped in her agitation.
“Oh, I’m going back,” said Joel, preparing to descend again to his work.
“You come right straight here,” commanded Miranda, shrilly, “an’ don’t you stir one step into that nasty hole. O dear me, I’m afraid as death of what Mrs. Pepper’ll say.”
“I must finish it,” Joel began.
“You come here,” and back he had to go, and then she swept him all over with her broom, knocking off the clinging straws and pig-pen litter, all the time exclaiming: “O dear me! What will Mrs. Pepper say!”
“Mamsie wouldn’t want me to stop my work,” said Joel, wrathfully, who didn’t like this sort of proceeding at all.